


Dead Eyes Open

by thawrecka



Category: Smallville
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-01-27
Updated: 2003-01-27
Packaged: 2017-11-20 03:33:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/580861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thawrecka/pseuds/thawrecka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lana thinks about the visions, post-Obscura.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dead Eyes Open

I sit in the seat next to Chloe, dumping my textbook on the table.  
  
"Rough day?" she laughs.  
  
The teacher starts talking about the mating habits of flies.  
  
  
 _Chloe can never understand how intense the visions were or what it was like to be in that guy's head. Things looked wrong, overbright, and the colouring was off. I could feel the shovel in his hands and his smug satisfaction as he buried her._  
  
 _I can never forget the way she looked through his eyes._  
  
  
I open the textbook and look out the window. Chloe is scribbling something down in a notebook, probably an article for the Torch.  
  
  
 _When they shot him I could feel it, as clearly as if a bullet was tearing through my skull, splattering my brain matter over the road. I could feel the cool air in the hole in his head, and the hollowness of death._  
  
 _I felt the prick and pull of the needle as they sewed his eyes shut and the impact of his body against the coffin as they buried him._  
  
  
The teacher drones on. Chloe looks out the window.  
  
  
 _Sometimes I still get the visions. I see the blankness behind his eyelids and feel the slow decay of his body._  
  
 _Once, during breakfast, I felt as the insects ate at his flesh and had to run to the sink to be sick._  
  
  
Chloe pokes me.  
  
"What?" I respond.  
  
"Will you pay attention now, Miss Lang?" The teacher asks.  
  
"Sorry," I mumble.  
  
"What were you thinking about?" Chloe asks, whispering.  
  
"Nothing," I say. Absolutely nothing.


End file.
